War and beauty
by Kay ti
Summary: Set in 1936, during the great depression, Haruhi fights to be the most popular geisha in Kyoto. Her every step like a dance which seem to tell a story. Includes all characters from Ouran- The usual gang, Renge Neko, Ayame.
1. Refined sugar

**War and beauty**

This story is set in 1936 in Kyoto.

Brief introduction of character, age and occupation

**Tamaki**-28 , The heir of Suou electrical company.

**Kyouya**- 28, Third son of Nippon Telephone Company

**Haruhi**- 17 Apprentice Geisha (Name before becoming a 'youngster sister' : Chiro)

**Renge**- 17 Apprentice Geisha (Name before becoming a 'youngster' sister : Peach)

**Hikaru & Kaoru**- 25 Sons of the most famous kimono-makers in Kyoto.

**Mitzukuni**- 26, a _sekitori_; upper-ranked sumo wrestler

**Takashi**- 27 Master of Morinozuka Shinobi-ryu ninja sect. Haruhi's childhood friend, before she was sold to an okiya in Kyoto.

B-list characters like **Mrs Ranka** as 'Mother' of the _Okiya. _And **Tamaki's dad** as the chairman of Suou electrical company.

I don't own Ouran or the characters!!!

_Prologue_

_The air in the courtyard carried the scent of a new day and the plants were misty with dew. Chiro pulled her thin cotton yukata tighter around herself as the morning chill blew in. Her legs were getting numb, from both being in a kneeling position with pressure pressed to her lower legs and the cold she had to endure for over eight hours. At twelve, her body was brimming with youthful ability and she should be able to withstand the elements of the cold. Her drenched clothes were already dried; and she was highly relived. This punishment was understandable, although she was peeved that she had to take the blame for Peach's mistake. Peach had ruined the kimono of another geisha by dropping a large stab of wet ink, and the blue cordial wave prints were instantly transformed into a series of furious tsunamis. It was true that Chiro had knocked into her and it was an accident. But the accidental shove occurred two minutes before Peach dropped the ink stab. In the end, the cost of the kimono was added to Chiro's already mounting debt. When she began working as a geisha, she would have to pay the okiya back for it. And also for everything else, her doctor's fees, medicine, meals- even though it only consisted of plum, some mountain vegetable and rice, geisha lessons and for the amount it cost her to come to Kyoto._

_She could hear Peach snoring, her tiny button upturned to the celing and the ruffle of her yukata as she tossed around under the thin blankets of her futon. Chiro breathed in the grassy fragrance of the tatami mats, the sweet stirring February air, and her thoughts wandering to the little blooms of sakura that would be tiny flakes of snow upon their branches in time to come. What a pity, she mulled, that something so pretty and exquisite would be gone so soon. The trees in Kyoto, and the whole of Japan would be in full bloom, and the labyrinth of narrow alleys would be swarming with people, the foreigners in smart dark suits, walking pieces of art- dainty geishas and peasants in their roughly made yukatas of simple colors, stopping to admire daffodils, white petal lilies and Japanese quince blossoming in flower box teeming the sidewalks._

_I wonder if Mother in heaven has the privilege of enjoying the beauty of Mother Nature, she thought. They say that heaven is a place of flowing honey, vast green land and rainbows all year round. She vaguely replayed one of her moments with her mother a few years ago. Them, tottering single-filed by old stone houses to the park and releasing lanterns to the sky during Mid-autumn festival. Writing blessings and wishes on a handmade lantern were a custom Japanese people practised during that event. It floated up after a douse of oil for fuel. Her mother's wish had been a prayer for Chiro to find happiness. Despite the sharp edge of memories that stabbed Chiro just below her rib-cage, she still loved spring best, just as her mother did- the doorway with gleamed with new possibilities each morning._

"_Chiro!" Mrs Toyo called from the second level of the okiya. She banged her cane on the glazed wooden floor sharply, causing a mushroom cloud of saw dust to rain down._

_On the jagged rock ground of the courtyard, Chiro pulled herself up with much difficulty. "Coming Mdm!" she replied. Her knees were of a tender red color and she massaged life into her legs. She even almost stumbled on the narrow stairway up._

"_You took so long," Mrs Toyo grumbled. "I'm suffocating here."_

_Even though Mrs Toyo was a cross old lady, Chiro has always had a pang of affection for her, and respect as well. She wanted her to be cared for as splendidly as possible. She smiled and moved across the room to slide open the shoji windows, emitting a cool breeze from the east. It filled the room with a sudden breath of promise. Mrs Toyo cleared her throat, but said nothing._

_Instead, Chiro spoke as her eyes wandered all over the sleepy town ahead, her hands tracing over the unfinished wood of the window pane. "I see a day of no regrets."_

_And suddenly, something inconsolable touched the tender inner depths of Mrs Toyo's heart. She rubbed her pale cool cheeks . She was sure that Chiro would be one of the greatest geisha in Kyoto under the wing of an experienced older sister with substantial star quality. Her way with words amazed her from time to time. She nodded slightly. "Chiro, remember every day of your life, you must be sure what you are fighting for."_

**Chapter 1: Refined sugar.**

_When spring comes, _

_This world once more_

_Calls to me – _

_In what other world_

_Could I see such blossoms? _

_--- -- Fujiwara no Shunzei _

**Five years later.**** Year 1936**

The sound of tea cups clinking against teeth made a high-pitched wane as men in small groups surrounded by Geishas donned in brightly colored hand painted kimonos of superior silk sipped tea and sake, enjoying the entertainment with courtesy of the ladies.

The small party clapped politely once the geisha had finished her piece on her cello. She bowed to her waist, her fingers gracing the top of her knees. Her music had provided a soothing balm for the entire room.

"Ayame, what piece is that? It was certainly wondrous; the way you played. I do remember hearing a similar tune in a store in England." The soon-to-be chairman of Suou Electric lamented as he leaned back in a lazy way.

The geisha resumed her position beside him, while her assistant kept her cello, laughed; her voice was like wind-chimes, twinkly, high and sweet. "It's Bach's First Cello Suite, Master Suou. I played it because it makes me realize why I play."

"And why, may I ask? It's rare that a geisha play an English instrument." He raked a hand through his crown of golden hair and glanced up with smoldering eyes.

Tamaki could sense her blushing as she lifted a sleeve with large arm hole to cover a set of perfect pearly teeth. He smiled, girls could never resist his charm.

"It makes Katsumi feel like she's taking the first lovely breath of air."

"Yes, I understand. Your notes themselves move in and out of me like breath."

Across the table, the third son of Nippon telecoms cocked an eyebrow up. Tamaki and his wayward Casanova ways were getting more intense. His eyes narrowed in scrutiny as he studied him for the umpteenth time. It was such a torment that someone like Tamaki could be a chairman. He wasn't even a qualified as a suitable candidate.

Kyoya lit his pipe as the tatami door Ichiriki teahouse slid open like a clockwork and closed again. In stepped in a beautiful petite lady, accompanied by her equally ravishing older sister.

"Ah, Mariko." Drawled Kyoya.

Katsumi pouted when Tamaki diverted his attention to Mariko and the geisha next to her. He asked "Who is that cupcake next to you?"

Mariko placed a hand on Haruhi's arm and announced "This is my new younger sister, Haruhi. Please be generous."

"My name is Haruhi, and I'm a novice geisha." She bowed. When Mariko removed her hand, she felt a jolt of panic rush through her. She wanted to feel Mariko's reassurance by her. The two gentlemen in front of her looked haughty; it would take a great deal of effort to bemuse them. She could feel their eyes boring into her as they eyed her up and down.

"So Mariko, this is the new adopted younger sister you've told us about last week."

Haruhi stiffened, so Mariko had been telling stories about her. She just hoped that Mariko hadn't praised her so much. She was certain she couldn't meet her expectations.

"Yes, be nice to her would you? Haruhi, this is Master Ootori and that is Master Suou."

"You meant the benevolent Master Suou." Tamaki grinned like a child. "You know I treat my ladies with extra care." He said for extra effect.

"Oh, Master Suou you are such a tease!" Mariko rolled her eyes dramatically.

Haruhi took her place beside Master Ootori. As elegant as possible, she poured tea for him. One hand grasping the curved handle and the other on top of the pot, pressing the lid down. Before that, she remembered Mariko's words "You have a lovely arm and beautiful skin. You should make sure every man in the room sees it. Have you wondered why our kimono sleeves are so big?" And her arm had risen to a small angle so that the sleeve of her kimono with patterns of white cranes slid back to expose her milky skin. She could feel Master Ootori's eyes trailing down her arm as she did it. She smelt his talcum powder as she leaned closer to him.

To her horror, the teapot was empty. In Haruhi's haste, she sent a help signal to Mariko with flashing eyes.

Luckily, Mariko caught her eyes and gave a nervous giggle with the tip of her fingers pressed delicately to her mouth. "Look, Haruhi is so determined that I'm sure she could get the last drop of tea out if she tried harder."

The rest of them chuckled heartily. Haruhi turned a dark shade of red, while trying to compose herself. She was glad for the eerie yellowish glow which masked her expression. In an attempt to restore the jolly moment, Haruhi spoke out in her best Kyoto accent. "Would you let me play for you?"

Go ahead, Kyoya nodded in a casual way. Haruhi moved to the front of the room, careful that she was not dragging her feet. The long ends of her kimono were swishing on the floor. Her each step was like a dance. Taking a deep breath to calm herself down, she started playing the shamisen. Her smooth fingers plucked every note with gentle jerks. The rhythmic movement of her body together with the traditional instrument was alluring. All was silent except for the melancholic tune which sent chills down Kyoya's back. It reminded him of the tranquility of the rushing creek at dawn.

The room launched into another round of applause. Haruhi beamed and bowed low. "I played Whispers in the wind, by Naga Teruomi." She spoke in a smooth sibilant whisper that her speech was clear and her word, disarmingly friendly.

"That was the most beautiful tone I've heard in months!" exclaimed Tamaki, his face crinkling into a smile. (Katsumi shot an irked look at Haruhi for stealing the limelight.) He patted the space next to him. "C-com…"

"Haruhi, I need you to light my pipe for me." interrupted Kyoya in an annoyingly buoyant fashion and held his empty pipe out.

"Yes, Master Kyoya." And she made her way to his side.

Their eyes met. Haruhi quickly looked away, she was uncomfortable, Master Suou had been staring at her since she entered the room. His handsomeness was so blinding that she was sure couldn't take another risk in looking squarely.

Tamaki shifted his position on the silk tatami mat as he munched on another piece of kasutera, a thin-loaf-sized sweet sponge cake, made out of simple ingredients sugar, eggs and cake flour. It was one of his favourite Japanese cakes. The eggs were well-beaten, the sugar grains used were white and tiny, not those rough brown grainy ones, and it was baked to perfection, he noted.

The Suou heir lowered his teacup soundlessly to the table, with his pinky finger in contact with the top first and spoke softly, thoughtfully. "There are many ways to build a nation."

At once, Haruhi lifted her head and said eagerly, "Haruhi agrees too. For starters, the scholars should …" Then she turned red with nervousness, wishing that she didn't make so much as a squeak. Normally the geisha's job was to entertain the clients by making small talk, play children games and dance. Mariko said that men liked these sort of things. Haruhi begged to differ though. She bowed her head in apology. Little girls should not be seen and heard.

The men looked at her in amazement.

"What you mean is that there is a leakage in the education system that should be corrected?" Kyoya completed her sentence for her.

"Yes, something along that line." She answered.

"What an interesting view."

"Well, one for all, and all for one." Tamaki concluded dreamily. It wasn't a time to say that, nor was it even relevant to their topic, but he felt that he had to say it out.

"Haruhi also wonders about the wonders of inventions. Like how the spinning motion of bicycle tires would take people from one place to another."

The sleeve of her kimono brushed Kyoya's arm, as she poured tea from a fresh pot and he blushed. Haruhi must have felt that she was too close to him; she could feel his breath getting sharper on her naked arm and his body heat emitting sparks that seemed to diffuse into her. She shifted her position.

Mariko laughed a high and girlish laugh "Looks like Master Ootori has a new admirer."

Haruhi glanced uncertainly at Kyoya who was sipping his tea indifferently. His coolness as a cucumber was like a puzzle, a challenge she hoped to complete. She could hear footsteps and the light chatter rising from the corridors. The floorboards vibrated slightly.

"I'm sorry but Haruhi and I have to leave now. We have another engagement by the Gofu river." Mariko rose, and Haruhi followed her cue. They both bowed deeply in good-bye before they left.

Tamaki's eyes never left the novice geisha. "She's a cute creature." He declared, pointing Haruhi out.

"Uh-huh." Replied Kyoya with a care-less grunt.

Soon, the doors slid open smoothly again and a few geisha with their pale painted faces entered the room.

"How's the weather?" Kyoya took a deep puff on his pipe. He exhaled and a few rings left his mouth to join the wisps from his teacup.

"It's good, Master Ootori." Answered the fairly plump geisha with a perfect oval face and arched cresant eyebrows next to him.

And that was all.

**A/N: **

I have always been intrigued with ancient Japanese and Chinese culture, hence I wrote this. It's rated M because of Haruhi's mizuge. Every novice geisha has an older sister till she is a full geisha; that is to guild her along her path and teach her well. Apparently, there are 3 stages –novice, apprentice and full-fledge geisha. And they are given new names once they are promoted to novice geisha. Chiro is the name of the girl from "Spirited away" right?

A mizuge is the first night a geisha spends with a man. Some men pay a high fee to be first with a geisha.

Naga Teruomi is a famous young musician from Tokyo conservatory of Music!

I plan to include Mori hani and the twin soon, if I do continue… I know nothing happened here yet… I happen to be obsessed with ninjas, so I'll include them too, though ninja clans died in the late 18th century.

Yes, 1936 is a period in the horrid Great Depression.

**Do you like it?** Does it suit your tastes? Hope to hear a shout-out from you!


	2. Walking on air

Chapter 2: Walking on air

Though I go to you  
ceaselessly along dream paths,  
the sum of those trysts  
is less than a single glimpse  
granted in the waking world.

-- Ono no Komachi

Sweat trickled from his thick brows in continuous drops as he watched his opponent with intently, his eyes flickering at every fidget the extra-large figure took. It charged towards him vigorously while he stood with his back hunched motionless. He was confident that Togoin would do a left tackle. As it was nearing him, he swung his body backwards right and as quick as a cheetah, together with the agility of a shinobi, pulled the waistband underneath the over-lapping folds of fatty skins. With all his strength, he jerked it hard in a speedy motion. In response to his move, his opponent pivoted and fell to the wooden floor with a deafening thud.

From the back of the dohyo a loud and clear clapping filled the room. "Excellent Mitzukuni! Makoto you need more practice!"

Mitzukuni wiped the flowing sweat with great effort and bowed deeply.

"Remember success is not handed to you. You must work hard for it and never dishonor what is given to you."

Mitzukuni adjusted his mawashi belt, which was to be worn during practices; an honor to being promoted to an upper rank and bowed again. "Hai, Oyakata-sama".

He could barely contain his happiness. The sun beamed down steadily with a Midas touch, turning every corner of the dohyo golden and the wind and golden chrysanthemums were singing a merry duel; the dry rustling in a rhythmic beat. Life is good; he smiled, and ran a hand down his triangle knot, where his hair was folded over again with a tight

In 1932, at the age of twenty-two, he began a three-year winning streak of seventy two sumo-matches, more than any other sumo-wrestlers. It was such a feat that he himself had prided upon. The roaring applause after each win was the reward he yearned to obtain. He was glad that being a sekitori included the privilege of making hand-printed flags for his fans.

"I'm glad that the Sumo association promoted you after your win in Gion. At first, I wasn't sure, but well, nothing is certain. Life is unpredictable" Daishima gave Mitzukuni a hard pat on his shoulder with pride gleaming in his eyes. "You did us proud."

After a short while of slience, Daishima left leaving Mitzuni to enjoy the tranquility of the morning in the company of the stirring air and a little brown sparrow chirping in unsteady beat, trying hard to impress a non-existent audience. Life is good, yet unpredictable, he concluded firmly.

----- ------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The night in Pontocho district was alive with all forms of entertainment for both peasants and wealthier folks. There was hourly kabuki plays at the Heian Theater, buskers playing various instruments and the quaint shopping streets. People watched mesmerized at the craftmen as they caved kime kome dolls; painting their faces with powered seashell and masks; all hollow-eyed and powerful. These inanimate objects began taking a life of their own under skillful hands.

Haruhi lifted her heavy kimono and tried to walk as fast as she could in her chunky 3-inch Geta, her scarlet bottom lip pressed in a firm curve stripe as she maneuvered her way through the throngs of people. A few men in black suits accompanied by painted faces geisha tossed glances of admiration in her direction but Haruhi didn't return their smiles; she was too caught up in her thoughts. She ran through long narrow cobbled alleys, whispering dark secrets of the past and passed a few panpan girls in their low-cut fleece western dress, peep-hole stilettos and ironed curls tumbling down their curves with their customers. One of them flipped a half-smoked cigarette into the air, which was extinguished by the damp cement with a deflated hiss, like a newly released balloon. Fortunately, it landed next to Haruhi's left foot, barely missing her by an inch. She mentally recited a prayer in thanks that she remained unscathed. It would be unimaginable if Mother discovered a burnt hole in the new kimono that cost an exuberant four thousand yen.

Wheezing slightly from the nipping chills and the distance travelled from the previous teahouse she entertained in, Haruhi entered shijo-dori Avenue and went over the Bridge of Kamogawa River in little steps. Her arms tired from lifting the heavy silk of her kimono and her back sagged from the strained of the extravagant obi.

For the past five months, she had attended several parties, plays and house-visits to view flowers. She had been so busy she barely had time to breath. Despite merely being a Maiko now, she was high in demand everywhere. She smiled at the thought of men's head turning to look at her whenever she entered a room. Minimum wage workers in traditional worksuits craned their necks to catch a glimpse of her when she strolled down the streets. She has been enjoying more prestige in her work.

Suddenly, she stopped sharply at a winded lane. Her heartbeat was quickening as the seconds tick by. Having not seen him for three-months, she wasn't sure what to say. She wondered if he would like to hear about the joke General Wantanbe had told or the hilarious incident the charity ball. One thing for sure, he wasn't a bit like those politicians and business men.

By the statue of Okuni, stood a tall lean figure in a simple kimono under a netted vest, the heel of his boot with sole lined with steel, dug the earth. A samurai sword was strapped to his back, just like the sword-wielding statue. The blade shone in the moonlight; the katana not properly tucked into its guardian holder. He tilted his head towards the clear sky littered with twinkling stars, as if holding a serious conversation with the moon.

"The cries of dandelions rose in joy upon arriving maidens" His words sliced the silence of the night, his haiku serving as an introduction. Then, he acknowledged her presence. "Haruhi, why are you standing there? Come over."

"Takashi." The surprised look on Haruhi was wiped away as she ran forth, pressed herself to his chest and wrapped her arms around his muscular waist. When he bent down to pull her into a deeper hug, she breathed in his scent of stale sweat and – what she imagined boldness to be, strong, rich and earthy. The memories of their coupling moments rushed through her head, like the swiftly flowing water in the Kamogama River with constant velocity.

By the river which shone like a black pearl, she asked sheepishly, voice muffled by his chest "How did you know I was there?"

He chuckled and stroke her neck, a little of the white paint came off. "A ninja has a sixth sense that allows him or her to sense the emotion of people and creatures nearby. My in-built ki meter is the embodiment of this sense."

"I miss you!" Haruhi didn't mean to say it out loud, she was a little embarrassed at how desperate she was for his contact.

"Me too. You.." The tall man in traditional outfit paused and looked straight into her eyes. " You look beautiful"

That simple statement from him was something she had been looking forward to. The thing about him which attracted him to her was that he was sincere by looking in other's eyes while holding conversations. Sometimes it was uncomfortable, like his searching eyes were boring deep into her soul as if trying to dig for intimate secrets she hid underneath her outer cloak. Sometimes, it was lovely, similar to the feel of being surrounding by nodding daisies, satisfying the attention she craved for.

For the next fifteen minutes, both of their spent an intimate moment together before she had to rush off to another engagement. Finally, so as to lighten the atmosphere she repeated the joke to him. Takashi laughed, but she wasn't sure if he fully understood it and was simply responding for her sake. Haruhi was upset at their departure. Mariko hinted with disapproving tutting that if Haruhi missed out on this party, she could forget about Master Suou being her danna or the bidder for her mizuage. Till now, she could remember her older sister's distinct "tskking" and clucking of tongue.

The sterling-sliver bell rang in her ears as the monks chanted their nightly prayer loudly in the heart of a nearby Shinto temple.

_How would things be if Master Suou becomes my danna? I wonder how would Takashi react?__ As they say, cross the bridge only when you have come to it._

------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The third curt knock on the door startled the knitted couple behind the desk. The shame-faced blonde man quickly removed his hand from underneath the skirt of the redhead, detached his lips from her pale neck; an action like the removal of a leech from a swollen bite and pushed her off his lap. She straightened her flapper dress consciously; the mint green rounded beads swaying to-and-fro and smoothed the creases casually, while he tidied his cluttered desk and stuffed crumpled pieces of documents into large manila envelopes, trying to look busily productive.

The aged assistant cleared his throat nervously "Sorry to interrupt your, er, work but I urgently need your signature on this Mr Suou."

Sadao concentrated at a spot on the smooth glass window, staring hard at the scene below of the bustling street with people moving like worker ants and then shifted his gaze to a crack on the panel, in an attempt not to make eye contact with any of them. The years that lined his face and clouded his eyes faded slowly as he tried hard to keep a straight face. Since his boss; the son of the chairman returned from England six years ago he had not changed his womanizing attitude. Almost every time he entered Tamaki's office, he would see a new lady making kissy faces. Often they were curled up so closely; one couldn't tell if the lump were two separate people or perhaps two people were manically sewn together. So today's special was the new French actress from the Gyoku theater five streets away.

The lady, or rather Tamaki's new and temporary interest, gave him a peck before whispering "Grand Oak Hotel 345". Sadao stood aside stiffly, not even flinching.

"And what is the world out there today?" Clasping his hands casually, Tamaki leaned back on the armchair. He hoped that Mr Sadao's respect for him hadn't changed because of the incident and many others.

"I'll say it's complicated" answered Sadao, snapping the file with a new swirly signature shut. "Personally, Japan will face a great amount of hard complication before she revives."

Tamaki nodded and sighed irritably. "How long will it take?"

Deep down inside, he was glad and feeling privileged to have Mr Sadao as a mentor. He was certain old Mr Sadao would be start on one of his little speech on patience again. And he did.

"You can't expect things to be balanced out so quickly in a time like this. Patience…" replied Sadao as a matter-of-factly. "This is a time where we step into a new world. Bright ideas are encouraged."

He walked to the piano, shiny with fingerprints and picked up the sonata "Like this pendulum, new ways will swing to the other end before they return."

"Well…" Tamaki was cut off by the shrill ringing of the phone. He pried the entangled wire from the heap of stationary. "Tamaki Suou here, yes?"

After a moment, he cried out "Kutabare!" and slammed the receiver down. Immediately, he twirled the dial a few times. "Kyoya did you hear the latest news? How's Nippon telecoms?"

Sadao froze. Something serious must have happened to this company.

"Japan's swinging the damn wrong way! One of our major companies in Toyko was burnt down two hours ago. And the Ootori's factory some metres away from ours is fine. I bet he's smirking his pants off now. And the workers are organizing a strike in the rest of the factories." Exclaimed the agitated young man. He hopped from his seat and grabbed his raccoon skin overcoat off the titling coat hanger. "Prepare the plane, I'm off to Toyko."

_He hasn't changed a bit._ Sadao exhaled. Tamaki has always had the tendency to blame others for unforeseen misfortunes and competing with that third son of Ootori was childishly meaningless. All he could do was to hope for the better and for Tamaki to further mature. He called out "Listen Tamaki, it takes time to rebuilt a nation and you will be part of it."

Pausing in his tracks, halfway on the stairways and clutching the banister tightly, Tamaki looked back and flashed a small smile. "Yes Mr Sadao, I believe that too."

All these while, he stuck to Mr Sadao hoping that some of his wisdom, optimism and patience would brush off his shoulder and infiltrate him. "Rebuilding a nation" was something too large for him to fathom.

"After all, I'm Tamaki Suou" he said to himself. Amidst the waning light was a blinding bright ray.

Maiko- apprentice geisha (below 21 years old)

Dohyo- the ring where sumos wrestle.

Obi- the huge ribbon-like tied like a bun at the back of a kimono

Danna- an influential someone, like a hubby slash daddy, to pay for all the expenses of a chosen geisha and more than that

shijo-dori – a location in Pontocho

Kamogama river- the starting point of the river basin in Kyoto

Okuni statue- a tourist attraction There is a legend behind it!! Apparently, from Wikipedia : She's also called Izumo No Okuni and was a Japanese dancer who is credited as being the founder of the Kabuki art form. She was a maiko at the Grand Shrine of Izumo where her father worked as a blacksmith, and where several other family members served. As it was a custom of the time to send priests, miko and others to solicit contributions for the shrine, she was sent to Kyoto to perform sacred dances and songs.  
It was during her performances in Kyoto that she also became known for her innovation: her nembutsu dance, in honor of the buddha Amida.  
Around 1603, Okuni set up a theatre on the dry riverbed of the Shijogawa (now the Kamo river) and formed a troupe of female dancers who gave a highly popular performance of dances and light sketches on a dry riverbed in Kyoto.  
Though she required her male actors to play female roles and her female actors to play that of the males, she was known for playing roles of either gender. In particular, she was best known for her roles as samurai and Christian priests. She retired in1610.

Katana- a ninja sword, the long one.

Ki meter- ninja can gauge the proximity and alertness of enemies via this. Ninjas are born, not nurtured. (I feel…)

Kutabare- 'what the hell? Frag you.' In japanese.

A/N: Initially I wanted to write a story set in the Qing dynasty (ancient china) so I could write about a treacherous Kyoya and tyrannical emperor. Plus all those romances between maids and princes blah blah… Since I have been watching period dramas since many years ago, I should be more experience in it! But Japan is cool too!

Yes, I did borrow, or horribly steal (GOMEN!) some ideas from that movie. I used that story as a guide. Uwahhhhh…

If you read the fourth Ouran manga, then you can visualize a huge Hani. (The last part of the book) Not too cute right?

The twins will appear in the next chpt!! Renge hasn't even been mentioned yet!

I will write quickly! (Yeah, given that I have 4 uncompleted stories… *sarkky tone*) Please show some encouragement!


	3. Wedding chimes

War and beauty

Chapter 3: Wedding chimes

When a sea of pinkish-red began to billow in the early spring breeze, in the little cluster of huts situated between the V-shape of the mountain gorge the group of men's elated laughter echoed through the central courtyard. They sit in small cliques on their knees around teak tables feasting. Huge jars of sake-rice wine are passed across the tables; however the ceramic bottle of hundred-year old sake laid on Takashi's; their ninja head, table. Slowly, they indulged in merry-making making most of the celebration. Each of them whooped and hollered boisterously. Today for this special occasion they abandon their slim-fit dark suits, chain vests and jika-tabi for lightly colored kimonos with hidden shurikens tucked inside sashes and straw Japanese slippers.

The weather was so good, the Morinozuka shinobi-clan held the wedding banquet beneath the old willow tree. In front of him, the groom smiled brightly and fed his bride, the eldest daughter of a salt-merchant a piece of teri-yaki chicken. Giggling, she opened her scarlet mouth, the half-cresant eyebrows arching heavenward. She looked away with dreamy eyes, an indulgent grin pasted on the groom's face. Takashi and his right-hand man Kasanoda exchanged glances when their fellow clansman slipped into happiness. The beautiful bride with diamond bright huge eyes, high nose bride, perfect skin and luscious black hair was a price possession every man desired for. In their tight arrangement, she was the only lady among the rugged group of men. Secretly, Takashi admired the bride's bravery. She had eloped with her lover and left her family. Travelling twenty miles on foot was no easy task. Under a dark cloud of deep thinking, he wondered if Haruhi would ever give up her ideal glamorous career for him.

Someone has spilt colors on the palette of his life. Everything brightened up whenever he thought of Haruhi. In his head, he saw his future with her. The heaviness of the day melts under her attentive gaze, soft whispers and shy smile. He envisioned both of them being wed under a broad sakura tree, where the solid straight branches spread out like the numerous legs of a dandy-long leg spider and abundant soft pale-pink petals rained upon them while he would take his first kiss with Haruhi. And so, they would be like any other couple; talking random evening strolls, talking about their own worries, troubles, ambition and plans for the future, the traditional snacks she prepared, her embroidery and tunics she sewed for them. Sometimes, they walked in silence, the beauty of nature speaking for them, listening to the fishes flip-flop in clear ponds, watching them with laughing eyes. Quiet and contented. A sharp prod from the left jolted him from his reverie.

"Master, when is your turn?" asked another ninja cheekily, taking another messy swig of the wine, a trail of dark liquid flowed from the corner of his mouth. He hastily took a swift swipe on his prickly chin.

"For what?" A trace of smile flitted across his face, which he tried to conceal by chewing some sweet rice cake.

"Your wedding banquet"

Takashi studied him. His face was flushed with too-much alcohol but eyes glazed with curiosity. "What are you talking about Tarami? You're drunk."

His clansman could detect a tone of irritation in his voice but continued to badger him. "You and that girl, whatzhername? Ah, Chiro? No, Haruhi now. You've been together with her for two years and even grew up in the same village. Surely, you two would have… y'know…"

Eager faces crowded around the table and loomed over their master. They were somewhat menacing and digressingly annoying.

Embarrassment hit him like a wave of seasickness, his legs felt weak and his heart palpitating. The coolness of the oxidized forested air beat upon his reddening cheeks in light strokes. It did no change to his rising body temperate. For once, the calm and steady Takashi was at lost for words.

In the end, he was forced to answer bashfully "Well, maybe soon."

"Shut and eat!" Takashi glared at the over-excited faces; they were like puppy dogs yapping away to lap up more milk. Sheepishly, they retreated back to original positions and the loud yakking and cheers resumed.

The sky was now darkening into an azure tincture. Darkness before dawn was coming. Takashi stared at his hands, the hands that had caused much bloodshed through stealth assassinations and controlled guerrilla warfare. He did not remember how many lives had died with a swipe of his katana- there are too many to count. An icy feeling squeezed at his stomach and started to fan out through the rest of his body. Even with quiet reassurances, he realized that he is no other than a melancholic stranger in a dull grey lifeless world some perceive as reality, alone and broken, illusioned and torn.

-------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In his chest, troubles like boulders piled up one over another. It has been three weeks since he returned from Tokyo. The loss acquired made the company bleed. Additionally, the shares one of his friends had persuaded him to buy went down all the way, hitting rock bottom. It destroyed him more than the market.

_Oh well, at least I'm better off than those jaunt-faced orphans in dirty slacks living on the street._ A tingle of unease glowered in his stomach when he recalled the sights he saw in sleazy streets during his trip in Tokyo. These pitiful children would force themselves to sleep each night in spite of the deafening winds and wake up at dawn to a world of smoldering ashes and crumbling fronts.

Tamaki scanned the room furtively and laughed to himself. Why _would Haruhi be in a place like this?_ These days he had been thinking of her unknowingly. Nevertheless, he eyed a leggy Japanese girl with straight jet-black flowing hair and in a tight red dress with an over-spilling chest. On her tiny waist; so small that you could spin it with two hands, snaked a hairy arm of a German man. Not only was him staring. Other men around him were also shooting smiles of admiration, and practically drooling. Tamaki smirked; he always got what he wanted. A Suou gets everything he desires for. In him was this budding urge to saunter up to them and laugh in their crusty faces for acting like hungry dogs or maybe hand them some napkins. He took a sip of his cocktail. And another. The glass with the narrow stem in his slender fingers emptied quickly. The crimson cherry sat stone-still at the bottom of the hollow cone formation. The bartender sidled over and Tamaki ordered another cocktail. This one came with a peach slice and tasted sickeningly sweet, unlike the usual whiskeys he would have. The familiar burn as the strong liquid flowed down his constricted throat stirred up some sort of urge in him.

Idly, he drummed his fingers on the polished counters to the disco beat emitting from the large boom box by the corner of the room. Beside it was a grand elegant gramophone perched forlornly on a table top. The records were scattered by the curved table leg. No one in this dinky pub bothered to tune in to classics.

On the dance floor with flashing lights, were less than seven couples in figure hugging clothes with legs itching to dance and body ready to rock.

"Hiiiii handsome. I'm Jessie." That Japanese woman Tamaki was observing a while ago tottered up steadily in high-heels. He noticed that she had an unconvincing American accent. Up close, she wasn't as pretty as he thought she would be. The pearl-shaped mole on her upper lip danced as she smiled.

"Hello." Tamaki said curtly. He looked the other way and pretended to be interested in a label stuck on the table. Temptation, like a love-starved raccoon was edging him on to look down her plunging dress. He gulped the remnants of his drink in one go- a huge mistake, the peach bit got stuck in his tight throat. He choked wildly, arms failing around.

She tried to get it down by massaging his chest. The sensual action was making it worse. At last when he swallowed it, his face had turned the color of molten lava. "Thanks" Tamaki muttered and turned to leave. It was getting late and he had better hurry before all the rickshaw riders retired for the night.

"Wait, what do you say to both of us in a hot tub? Alone." She pleaded.

He paused and leaned towards her. Her overpowering perfume engulfing him was quite unbearable. And one thing he hated was pathetic women. On the other hand, he couldn't care stand for one night stands anymore.

"In a word, no."

An angry frown creased her forehead. "Whatcha mean by that?" Tamaki winced the bad American accent was getting on his nerves. He quickened his pace with her shrill voice chasing him down the steps.

Outside, the light fell to gray shadows. By the shophouse, under drafty darkness a young man of not more than twenty, with a shaven head waiting patiently for a potential customer. His smile opened like a deck of cards when he spotted Tamaki standing on the cracked pavement. A foreign man meant more income. More money for his family and opium-addicted father.

"Oi, you there" Tamaki called and wrapped the coat tighter around his lean frame.

That night, he gave the rickshaw boy a hefty tip.

----------- -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Haaaaaahuri! Hurry up! Mother's waiting too!" Renge stomped her feet on the wooden flooring and crossed her arms irritably. Her pretty face curled into a nasty scowl and she played with her hair. The long chestnut hair tumbled about her shoulder in subtle waves. Renge picked at the ends of each lock and pride beamed down her as she felt the glossy smoothness. _Haruhi's hair isn't as lovely as mine, and will never be. She's more than a little kitten than a foxy lady like me._

For many years, it was a game she always played by herself. Sometimes, she said it out to hurt Haruhi's feelings and she succeeded magnificently in it. Renge was that sort of person who constantly try to dig into people's sub-consciousness and bring out their inferiority with rude words.

"Coming!" In a puff of powder, Haruhi rushed down the steps in a horribly ungraceful manner but to her surpise Mother didn't say anything about it, except she received a snort of disapproval.

Two rickshaws were waiting for them outside the three-level okiya. Haruhi and Renge got onto one while Mother clamored in the other.

The weather was pleasant with warm breezes checking out each flowers and trees of early spring. Azaleas, lilies and freesia bloomed him window boxes. The warm wind carried their sweet scent all over Ponotcho. Although, both maikos only wore light pearl powder and kimonos with simple flowers patterns, people stopped to stare at them. It was a glorious feeling, yet a tad unpleasant to be ogled at like an object. _A vision of loveliness_, was a phrase some used to describe geishas.

When they passed by a mask shop, the smell of fragrant wood shavings from the workshop whizzed into their noses. The rhythmic scrapping sound was hypnotic. Renge held her nose rudely, hiding half of her face behind her sleeve. Haruhi smiled in the direction of the mask maker and he returned it with a bow, his dark hair covered in fine sawdust that gave him an appearance of an old man. After that he returned to work and disappeared into his own world, oblivious to the distracting surroundings.

A short trip on the bumpy rickshaw ride brought them to a large shop with sloping roofs and yellow tiles at the edges. Before the rickshaw halted, Haruhi have been listening to Renge's chatter about the shop they were going to visit. She remembered Renge's eyes glistering with excitement and wide smile- without showing any teeth as she prattled on the beautiful Hitachin siblings and the fine kimonos the Hitachin family made. Renge had commented about huge number of customers in the shop, and people returned "like birds flocking to their nests" and that even the empress of Japan regularly orders from Hitachin kimono Company.

Inside the Hitachin Kimono Company, bright bolts of silk gleamed on shelves. It had a blinding effect on Haruhi and she blinked nervously and rubbed her eyes, all these while rooted to the spot. At the back of the huge spot, workers rushed back and forth with bolts of cloth in their arms and measuring tapes hung on their sweaty necks. It was almost like a mass production company. Even at noon, the store was bustling with people. In fact she was so engrossed in the scene before her that she took no notice of Mother and Renge disappearing by the side door.

Flustered she craned her neck and looked over the waves of bobbing human heads. Her trademark liquid faraway gaze floated upon her face. The feeling of lost scratched inside her, unable to escape.

"Can I help you, Miss Haruhi?" a voice spoke out.

Haruhi turned in relief, to a smiling face. "Yes, I've lost my –"

"Mrs Ranka and Renge are in the other VIP room. This way." He grinned again, and when he did it, his nose wrinkled at the top. "I'm Hikaru Hitachin by the way." He led her to the secluded corner of the store by the elbow.

"I'm Haruhi." And immediately she felt stupid. Of course he knew her name, he had called her earlier on. She blushed slightly and is glad that his back is on her. She could hear his soft chuckling coming from the front. During their short walk to the tailor room, Haruhi studied Hikaru's profile. Was he the "beautiful sibling" Rene mentioned earlier? She thought Renge had referred to girls, since it is in Renge's nature that she criticized anyone who had one percent more beauty than she did. Hikaru's spiky ashen-orangey crown of hair was eye-catching. Back in Hokkaido, where she was born in, her neighbor referred to Caucasians as 'Foreign Devils'. "Is that your natural color?" She wondered aloud.

He heard her, stopped and flashed her another charming grin. "Yes. I think one of our ancestors' was German or something. I'm Japanese anyway" As if deep in thought, he raked up his spikes. "You're not the first one to ask us that."

In a rush, Haruhi apologized "Sorry, I didn't mean to question your nationality."

He patted her cheek, feeling the heat rising under the powdered skin. "Come on." He slid the door open in a quick motion.

Haruhi saw that there was a hole in the screen. She pointed it out timidly and he half- shrugged "Ah, paper doors always tear easily." To this, she wanted to say that the door in her room hardly got torn but decided that it was best to keep her mouth shut.

A similar clone of Hikaru was chatting animatedly with Mother, while Renge argued with the tailor over a bolt of cloth. "Not this! I want something of a lighter shade. China spurn silk!" She raged, her arms making exaggerated gestures; not exactly a pretty sight. When she saw that Hikaru and Haruhi had entered the room her mouth turned down so that she looked sour, like a green apple, but her voice was sticky sweet, like molasses. "Hika, can you puh-lease tell your incompetent assistant to get mint green cloth? And she even dared to say that you don't carry silk from china."

There was an empty sit next to the exact replica of Hikaru and Haruhi wasn't sure what to do. He spotted her confused look and called out invitingly. "Sit here." And added for further clarification. "I'm Kaoru, Hikaru's twin brother."

Haruhi tilted her head and nodded as wisely as she could to conceal her baffled expression. Mother spoke up "Look Haruhi, Kaoru is such a handsome guy don't you think?" She keep on tittering unprofessionally and Haruhi could only nod. "Kaoru, you must visit Haruhi and Renge at Matsuto teahouse someday and maybe get to know them a bit more."

Something stirred inside Haruhi, she couldn't help but feel disturbed. Mother never stopped to take a breather from opportunities of prospective dannas. "Mother" she started to say, however Mother caught her eyes and winked.

"Look, Haruhi's blushing! She turns red at the sight of any handsome boy." Mrs Ranka cried and waved her paper fan with painted goldfishes for luck hard. Kaoru laughed politely. _Another untrue fact_, thought Haruhi although on her face plastered a forced smile.

Suddenly she heard a clutter from the backroom and instead asked "is someone else here?"

Kaoru glanced backwards and laughed again. "My assistant is engaged at the moment. She'll be coming soon. But yes, there's someone else."

Haruhi stood up abruptly, knocking the heavy scissors trimmed with gold onto the floor. "Sorry!"

"It's alright. Little Rain! Come and meet Haruhi." He clapped his hands twice.

In the next moment, mewing filled the room and a snow white cat with long bushy broomtail pranced through the curtains. It rubbed it head against Kaoru's leg and arched her back until Kaoru reached down to stroke it. The cat stared sternly at Haruhi with large unblinking eyes; the deep glare seemed to demand respect and authority. Haruhi made a few mewing sounds and clucked her tongue. "Little rain, over here. Mmm…" Her mellow voice crooning all the way.

Mother hissed "You're here for kimonos not to act like animals."

"She's a possessive cat, as you can see." Kaoru said seriously.

Haruhi's hand flew to her mouth and leaned back, her escalating laughter escaping from her throat. She felt at ease for the first time since entering the shop. The 'Har har's wouldn't stop. Her rib ached and she could barely breathe through her nostrils so in the end she was half-snorting, like a pudgy pig and half-giggling. It was so contagious that Kaoru joined in as well. Hikaru and Renge looked strangely at the both of them clutching their sides, tears streaming down their faces.

Embarrassed by Haruhi's behavior, Renge said meanly "Haruhi's always been this weird."

"I like weird girls" remarked Hikaru flippantly, trying to keep a straight face. And he continued with his business, making a notch in the green silk; swiftly and expertly he tore off a long strip.

Back at the table, the bounces on Haruhi's shoulder ceased. The cat watched her closely; narrowing her eyes in scrutiny before losing interest and bouncing away. For extra effect Haruhi said "Mew mew mew." She could see Mother's lips pressed tightly in a firm line, her wrinkle emerging and veins budged out slightly.

"I expect this is how you entertain others in teahouses and parties." Kaoru said, as his assistant burst in with apologetic looks. The tear on the door was made larger.

Haruhi bit her lip and tried to imagine laughing hysterically in front of Master Ootori and General Yamashita. "Not exactly" She licked her lip, a habit which Mother had prohibited.

The whole afternoon was spent in Hitachin Kimono Company, numerous measurements being taken and undercoats tried on. Under Mother's eagle eyes, Haruhi dare not make so much as a "Hee-hee" should she get punished. To please Mother, she made various comment about the bolts of cloth, kimonos patterns and everything; some constructive, some ridiculous (for instance saying that sembei rice crackers in English earl tea was tasty). Kaoru stole glances at Haruhi and pocketed the lighthearted moment they shared with Little Rain, Mother and the rest. A part of him hoped that there would be plenty of opportunities with her. But alone. Only the two of them, not with Mother or Hikaru.

Little did he realize that his brother's eager eyes were on Haruhi too.

_jika-tabi- boots ninjas wear_

**A/N:** So do you like my story so far? This is just the beginning though. **I haven't had many responses, and it sort of deters my spirit, so I may not be continuing with my stories. *bites lower lip***

It is so hard to write this story.. boohoohoo

Thank you for those who did response by alerts or whatsoever; I don't know how to reply a review.

I wrote the Tamaki part after Mori to create this contrast thing between the poor and the rich, or maybe the traditional VS modern effect. I don't know what I have done!!! Everyone liking haruhi! I will do something about it soon. Apparently, Mori is like, Haruhi's lover except the furthest they go is to hug. I suppose in those days kissing= sex.

I hope that the earlier remark haruhi's neighbor made offends no one. It is true that in the past (huddled up in their selfish world) people (in Asia) called missionaries this.

The next chpt, focusing more on conflicts, will be up shortly!!!


	4. The Moon viewing party

**War and beauty**

**Chapter 4: The moon party.**

_Though the rain may fall,  
I beg you, clouds, do not hide  
Ikoma Mountain,  
for I think only of seeing  
the place where my beloved dwells._

And the man said he would come, but he never did.

She said: _Night after night,  
I have awaited the visits  
you promised to make.  
Though I no longer trust you,  
I spend my days in longing._

-------- anonymous lady from Kawachi

The wooden planks in the local bathhouse creaked shrilly as a girl of barely nineteen tiptoed along the white limestone line marking the room. Round fat beads of perspiration rolled nonchalantly down the curve of her shoulders, down the already soaking towel wrapped tightly around her slim frame and finally escaped from the hem. The family of water droplets percolated into the porous wood, sinking out of sight.

"Yes, that's right. One heel after the other. And Haruhi, stop grabbing the top of your towel. Let your hands and arms move freely." Mariko nodded signs of approval, but got up from the unsteady wooden stool to correct Haruhi's actions. "Here, your wrist pushed back like this. The curve is more obvious that way."

Immediately, Haruhi's hand flew up to wipe another round of perspiration off her as smooth as porcelain forehead. She patted with the back of her hands in little movements, starting from the top of her forehead and ended with the side of her high cheekbones. She tried to mimic Mariko's hands which looked like a newly sprouted lily and was saved from further tuttings.

"Honestly, you look like a peasant when you do that action. But you've improved. Come on." Mariko led Haruhi by the wrist to their stools. She took a handful of sea salt from the valleys of Tamba Highlands and rubbed it on Haruhi's forearm, massaging in circular strokes. "This will make your skin smooth and irresistible. Imagine Master Suou's widen eyes when he sees your glassy silky bare skin."

At mention of his name Haruhi felt heat creep up her wet neck. She turned away in case Mariko got the wrong idea. However the older geisha saw the slight flinch her younger sister made when she emphasized "bare".

"Onee-san. Please stop teasing me. I have no other feelings for our customers, much less _him._" She bent her head to scoop some steaming water up. Outside, she could hear the customers of the bathhouse chirping our snatches of the opera between splotching of heated water; the whizzing steam rising in curls as water splish-splashed out of over-filled giant tubs and the lady proprietor shouting a string of vulgarities at drunken customers.

Since she had been sent to geisha school for training and after her minarai stage, Haruhi's has allowed herself to hope. She wanted her new destiny to be something worth waiting for; fate was like a dice game in her life, something she could control and put certain matters into her own hands. In the head, she remembered the famous fortune teller in her village who could write beautiful calligraphy in cursive bold strokes with four brushes in his hands at once. And Haruhi decided she would be the famous painter like him. But being headstrong and brimming with 'in-charge' spirit, she didn't see herself with narcissists.

"He pays a great deal of attention to you, eh?" Mariko droned on dreamily. "And he treats ladies especially well. Did I tell you my mizuage bidding was won by him?" She added for the tenth time.

She looked in Haruhi's direction and caught her looking flustered. Haruhi had stuck a finger into the pail and stirring it awkwardly. "You're blushing _Haruhi_."

"I-I'm not quite about the mizuage idea. What do I do Onee-san?" Her words came in a rush shakily, as if she was a disgraced scholar.

"Ah-ha! No one told you about how a baby comes about? You are that innocent!"

Haruhi's blurred head reflection in the vapour-covered mirror shook left and right.

Mariko continued. "A hermit crab and an empty shell. You're an empty conical shell among the rest. And say, Master Suou is the outgoing hermit crab. He finds you and enters the shell. In and out, until he finds it too small, or shall I say, bored with your homely décor then he will look for other beautiful shells. Men are pretty promiscuous, so it's unlikely that they stick to one shell."

If Haruhi was offered a choice of super powers- flying, control and mind-reading, she would choose the ability to control her facial emotions hands-on. The rosiness on her pale cheeks switched to a dark shade as she listened to Mariko. "I don't appeal to the idea of doing it with someone foreign, or someone you hardly love. It's kind of sacred; the first time I mean."

Mariko sighed deeply, the steam blown back sharply by her sudden breath. "You know something Haruhi? Your stubbornness is going get you somewhere. Somewhere far. I haven't seen a geisha to-be like you before. You are precious." She chucked Haruhi under her chin teasingly. "half-jewel, you are _blushing_ again. I know you like that French man."

"It's the heat here." Haruhi insisted, pointing to the tub and she knew it was true. Still, she couldn't feel bashful. In retaliation, she splashed some water on Mariko's face and in return got drenched in wet bath salts.

Girly tittering grew louder and louder, muffling the manly groans of sumo wrestlers next door as their backs were scrubbed thoroughly. The moody lady proprietor hissed like an estranged mother cat and they shut up, staring back at one another with laughing eyes.

Later that day, Haruhi sat erect in a high chair made of the finest camphor wood as Hinashi, a highly skilled artisan fitted the chignon over her head. Her face was already painted in variant colors of white, scarlet(on her lower lip; to create an optical illusion), some dusty purple eyeshadow brushed on her eyelids, black accents around her eyes and her eyebrows a clear brown arch made with a lit make-up stuck. Her eyes floated over the numerous brushes scattered all over the dressing table, and the awful yellow cream with sanitized pigeon droppings. It was cool to touch, the cream had the texture of pearl powder but it smelt horridly of one-week old bean paste.

The bobby pins slid into place, making notches in Haruhi's scalp and she yelped, fidgeting a little. And she almost knocked the clay bowl of crystallized sugar down.

"Don't move, I'm almost done. Today, I'm arranging a taka shimada hairstyle for you." Hinashi's voice loomed over her.

Once he had finished putting a large array of glittering haircomes and gold-plated hairpins into her chignon, Haruhi petted her head. "My hair looks like a split peach."

"Stop touching! You'll ruin it." Cried Hinashi grabbing the wandering hands of a restless Haruhi. "The dresser is here."

Mr Tekkei helped Haruhi into her demure, yet fancy kimono with hand-painted pictures of dandelions and twittering birds that seemed to dance expressively with every step. And at different angles, they told a different tale. He wound the five metre long obi round her slender waist and secured it with a jeweled pochirri.

"This is another original work of the Hitachins, am I right?" he folded her sleeves, while she held out an arm.

"Yes, Mr Tekkei! I'm surprised at that comment. You know everything." Haruhi's eyes sparkled with amazement. She beamed to herself- a secret smile and the Haruhi in the glazed mirror giggled at her. A geisha was like any other peasant woman without make-up and costume. But with them on, she was a graceful swan with hidden prowess.

After Mr Tekkei dressed Mariko, both of them set off to the moon-viewing party at the Ootori mansion in a rickshaw. The rickshaw man smiled up at them, his smile so bright like a bright orange life buoy bobbing in the dark sinister ocean despite the blackened teeth that Haruhi saw needed rebonding. She returned the smile shortly.

As the rickshaw maneuvered its large wheels through the crowd, Haruhi counted the months since she had been entertaining customers with her fingers. Ten fingers were not enough so she went over the first three slender fingers on her left hand twice. _Thirteen months, about a year_ she mulled. _My mizuage is in three month's time._ The thought of sleeping with someone was etched deeply in her mind, carving a new crater among the other pockmarks.

The piquant smell of barbequed squid and grilled oysters rose in unison carried by the warm humid summer evening air reminding her of a special someone. Takashi. He no longer occupied her thoughts and entered the fantasies she played in her mind, as often as in the past. An image of a cool Kyoya drifted uninvited into her mind. Hurriedly, she mentally tried to shove it aside by filling her head with thoughts of Takashi- his touches as light as a drangonfly skimming the water, his grip on her waist, the space between his shouder and warm neck where she had laid many times on. Takashi had this assuring warm comfort one could find refuge in.

I love you, he had said once as he kissed her on her cheek. Haruhi was so shy that she broke his grip and pretended to be interested in the grayish crayfish basking on a rock oxidized rusty brown at the stream. Her heart was still thumping wildly, the beat desperate to break out when he cradled her poised and cool. She was momentarily thrown and had lost her voice. Soon, she found it after a hard time composing herself and whispered _I love you too_. The confession was made crystal clear approximately two years ago. Now, did she still feel the same about him? The answer was indeed obvious. Instead, Haruhi shook her head, rejecting the forbidden thought and the jewelry clanked together with a sweet melodious sound. _I can't…_

"Haruhi we've reached." Mariko's voice saved her from answering any direct questions the other part of her was throwing.

They bowed to the over-zealous rickshaw man and walked up the steps elegantly in getas.

"You were awfully quiet during our ride here, usually you would make some funny comments. A penny for your thoughts?" said Mariko, and her face lit up when she spotted a familiar face in the coat room as a servant girl, of not more than fifteen ushered them in.

"Onee-san I…"

"Mr Haninozuka! What a pleasure to meet you!"

Mariko was back on full-host duty. She introduced Haruhi to him and him to her. Haruhi gave a half-hearted smile and tried not to stare at him. His waist was more than thrice of hers and despite a man of substance, he had a squeaky voice; like his voice never broke during puberty which was surprisingly childish for his age. Mariko congratulated him heartily on his wins and newly acquired rank as a semi-tori. Haruhi could only watch them in fascination. His ruddy cheeks heaving with pride as Mariko hurled praises one after another. They seemed to have some sort of chemistry between them.

As soon as they parted ways Mariko leaned towards Haruhi excitedly. "He's a prospective danna for you!"

To this, Haruhi simply gave a curt nod. She supposed some of Mother's character had illegitimately diffused into Mariko. Also, she was unable to concentrate. The dance steps she was to perform that night was jumbled in her head an she hoped that she wouldn't mess up her performance.

A breath-taking landscape greeted them with open arms. It was the first time Haruhi visited the Ootori's residence and it took her breath away. When she gazed South, the lush greenery with trees forming a continuous canopy was there. East was a large pond with gaping orange carps; their breathes coming up in popping bubbles absorbed by wide-lily pads and squawking mandarin ducks of all colors. A mini lacquered bridge stood proudly over the water where the full-moon harpooned the ripples with piercing shots at one side. The other side floated many lanterns casting eerie sepia glows. These Japanese netted lanterns were also hung at strategic locations all around the courtyard to create some lighting. North was the vast mansion, which hinted of possible secret passage ways and hidden corners for forbidden servant romances.

Mariko headed west and gently tugged Haruhi's hand. "Stop gawking. Let's go."

A flight of stairs led to an open air pavilion made of dark wood lattice screens and rows of column posts supporting its heavily tiled roof. And leaning on one of the post, smoking a cigar was Tamaki. _Which meant that Master Ootori must also be there._

A jolt of familiar panic coursed through Haruhi's veins. Butterflies were invading her delicate stomach. _Thunk thunk,_ went the sound of their getas hitting the planks. She could feel eyes trained on her as she went up. Haruhi kept her eyes on the ground, although Mariko told her never to do it, in case she missed a footing. And she did.

A scaly lizard, perhaps a monitor lizard in its youth scampered across her path. Shell-shocked and alarmed, Haruhi squealed and slipped backwards. Behind closed eyelids, she could already sense her reputation ruined as her humiliating moment caught up with her. A strong arm caught her waist, and Haruhi force-fluttered them open to see Kaoru grinning at her. "Well, we meet again"

"Thank you Mister Hitachin."

"Call me Kaoru please." To Mariko's delight, he helped Haruhi up the steps, his hands still perched on her waist.

Inside the pavilion were Renge with her older sister, Hikaru, Tamaki, a straight haired lady in green velvet western dress and beside her Kyoya. A few platters of snacks Haruhi had never seen before; lotus-paste mooncakes with salted egg yolks imported from Shanghai, were surrounded by ceramic jars of sake and amakuchi- a sweet rice wine. Mariko and Haruhi bowed. Hikaru scooted over to make room to his brother and the two geishas, so Haruhi was wedged in between both Hitachin twins. Initially, she gave an anxious glance to Kyoya to see his expression on her arrival with another man's hand on her; his empty face revealed nothing.

Haruhi took in what he wore, the grey pants suit matched with checkered brown vest softened his austere expression without diluting his confident demeanor.

"Haruhi, are you alright? Thank goodness Kaoru, my good man was there to rescue you." Tamaki rushed over practically with 'Overly concerned' calligraphy etched on his face.

"I'm fine, Master Suou. Thank you for your dearest concern." Replied Haruhi. She realized that a geisha had a lot of 'thank you' s to say. It was as if the Kitchen God had a major influence in the geisha handbook.

When Renge's senseless chatters had stopped, Mariko spoke. "And who is this lovely lady beside you Master Ootori?"

"I'm Ayame Jonouchi, Kyoya's fiancée." Ayame looked around and beamed. She took the engraved sliver lighter from the table and lit Kyoya's pipe for him. It was a wifely duty she happily compelled with. "Our parents arranged the marriage. Our banquet will be in autumn."

Around the Elmwood table, somebody's heart sank faster than a top-notch American underwater battleship. Haruhi forced a smile and she was glad the simple word "Congratulations" rolled off smoothly from her tongue. For the rest of the night, she kept a low profile, playing the shaimen when Kaoru requested and dancing. She missed a few notes and plucked the wrong string. To top it off, she didn't wrap her furi well enough when she danced "The ladybird's articulation". No one seemed to notice except for the geishas. Displeased with the attention Haruhi was getting, Renge blithely remarked to Haruhi's embarrassment. "Haruhi, is something troubling you? You were playing that piece so well and every note correct, this morning."

Fortunately Mariko jumped to her defense "Haruhi had entertained many customers yesterday, I expect she is tired now."

Everyone agreed and unexpectedly Kyoya said "You should have an early night then. Feel free to leave anytime. Your health is more important."

Haruhi smiled, clean and placid. "I'm not the least tired Master Ootori. Thank you for your concern." Inside, she wasn't sure whether to be glad or not. He just told her to leave, but his words were intimate; he said it in front of everyone.

Silently seething with rage and jealousy Renge eyed on Haruhi. _Why is everyone so concerned about Haruhi? She's an inferior piece of jade compared to me. '_Thank you' this, 'thank you' that, it sent a surge of pain through her, a hot ache felt her chest and throat.

"Ah! Haruhi, I've brought something for you." Tamaki took the camel-brand cigar from his mouth and called for his maid.

"Oh?" Haruhi went.

The maid in dark blue yukata with a braid fastened around her head carried a small pot, decorated with court ladies over. Beneath the charcoal a strong stem stood out in full glory and two branches of the most exquisite flower opened its petals as if to welcome the beams of moonlight.

"It's beautiful. Thank you Master Suou." Gasped Haruhi. Impulsively, she reached to feel a golden petal. It felt like a cocoon of a silk worm.

"It's a Javanese Dendrobium. A very rare orchid. It only blooms once in a few years and only for a few minutes. I had my assistant bring it from Penang." Hands on his hips, Tamaki shrugged to the oohs and ahhs from the guests. Only Kyoya rolled his eyes and remained unimpressed.

Mariko laughed, sounding of marigolds. "Master Suou, you must have liked my Haruhi a lot don't you?"

"Well,…" he started.

"She likes you a lot too!" tittered Mariko. Her voice dropped to a husky whisper "She told me so."

"Onee-san.." Haruhi flushed and resisted the urge to stuff a whole mooncake up her older sister's gossipy mouth. Mariko was more suited to be the trumpet- mouthed wife of a butcher rather than a dainty geisha. She was relieved when the little party of people dispatched, they were going down to take pictures and mingle with the other guests.

There are ink-blue patches and reddish-hues in the jet-black sky. Haruhi didn't focus on the moon; which is the main subject for this party, but the glistening star. She stood near the forested area and looked up. A stray star twinkled rubbing its sleepy eyes, hangs on the dark canvas. _I'm like that star. Alone, maybe devastated and still trying its best to shine to please an audience. _Haruhi thought.

According to Shinto religion, after death every person becomes a kami, a supernatural being who continues to have a part in the life of the community, the nation and the family. Good individuals become good and beneficial kamis, the bad become pernicious. _But what would happen to Mama in heaven?_ She was a wonderful woman; Haruhi hoped she became a good kami.

Footsteps sounded behind her. "Haruhi." It was Kyoya. She froze.

"My mother died years ago. She was my only family." She blurted out randomly.

His brow crinkled together. "Come here." And patted her shoulders.

Unable to control her emotions, she leaned towards him and pressed her cheeks to his chest. She loved the weight of Kyoya's arm on her shoulder and the smell of bittersweet pipe smoke. The rich deep flavours that curled and rose in the air made her feel safe and ease.

"Falling leaves return to their roots."

Haruhi looked up. "Eh?"

"Life is like a circle. Dying is a natural process. You can't control fate." Kyoya puffed while standing stiffly, like an old pine tree standing alone on a ridge.

"You can." Said Haruhi defiantly. "There are aspects where you can control what you want. We decide our own fate."

"No." There was a snide disturbing tone in his voice. "The little blind beggar girl didn't choose to be born to a family of beggars. Or be blind."

"Still, she can do something about her status. Change it. Nothing is impossible. With perseverance, one can achieve anything." She insisted, her gaze fixed on Kyoya's expressionless face.

"Going by your belief, so if everyone works to their bones today, the sino war will end tomorrow. And US will remove the oil embargo on Japan." It wasn't a question, but more of a statement questioning her idealist thinking.

Defeated she drew herself away from his warm body. "Well, there are some things that can never change." _Like my newfound love for you_, she wanted to add.

Kyoya detached his stare and fixed it on her. "You're very interesting. Listen. To make sure we grab every opportunity at improving ourselves and living richer lives, we should cultivate an attitude to always respond to positive opportunities that life presents to us daily. New opportunities are challenges and life without challenges would be dull and boring indeed. Same goes for your mother's death. It's a hurdle you must overleap in order to face the world."

A lone teardrop reflecting the bright moon dropped down her cheek. Haruhi could feel more coming. Kyoya was right, she had to let go. And then she realized. Her mother's face, her hope, her knowledge, her sadness, they were all hers. Then Haruhi cried softly, glutting her heart with joy and self-pity.

Kyoya used the ends of his sleeves to wipe her tears away. "There there" he cooed, something Haruhi had never knew he was capable of. So he had a human nature after all. "Wipe those sorrows away or Mariko will reckon that I've ill-treated you."

She gave him a sad smile and nodded. "Thank you." Although he never did much, there was an unmistakable feeling of indebtness she felt towards him. It stroked the tenders of her heart like fire flames to burning logs.

They walked across the bridge, passed many governors, politicians and businessmen all deep in conversation with the other party and chatted about lighter matters. Kyoya was whisked away by his elder brother to meet the Baron so Haruhi faithfully returned to Mariko's side.

A cameraman shouted "Look up missy!" and ducked underneath a dark cloth to click a button. The buzzy whirring of the film started up and a blinding light was flashed in their faces.

After the shot was taken, Haruhi blinked twice and saw Kyoya's fiancée Ayame making kissy faces at someone five metres away from her. Strange notes of trembling, sadness and unfamiliarity floated through her, like a playing flute. She secretly hoped that Kyoya would take an interest in her. Then she blinked through her thick lashes again. It wasn't Kyoya, but a foreign man with shaggy pale blond hair and handsome chiseled features. He winked at Ayame and Ayame blew a kiss back, Haruhi was certain.

Startled she tugged at Mariko's pumpkin patterned sleeve "Who is that man, the one with yellow hair?"

"Umehito Nekozawa, the eldest son and only son of an international automobile company. He's half Russian though. And single. Why do you ask? You want to get to know him? Tamaki's not enough? Sure, he was my danna once for half a year. A slimy one I must say!"

"No!" Haruhi felt a tiny twinge in her chest "I have to go to the bathroom anyway."

Her head spurn back to catch another glimpse of that foreigner and felt a thread of guilt being wound up in her. It twirled around her body the way. She would have to find somebody to unravel it. And that someone would not be Mariko or Renge or even Mother. She didn't want to see Kyoya hurt and humiliated.

Maybe it was a trick of the light; dark gardens were deceiving. Or a simple misunderstanding.

Possibilities that she imagined, Haruhi clutched on to them her heart knotted in determination.

Tamba highlands- some where in Kyoto

Minarai stage- novice geisha

onee-san -"older sister": the Minarai's senior or mentor

chignon – the head dress geishas wear.

Pochirri- kimono sash clip

A/N: 

Hi hi hi! Thank you so much for your reviews, that are much better than receiving a Gucci tote, I feel like I'm guilty of economic duress!

I really hope that you like my story so far. I felt like I had to insert Nekozawa in somewhere but he won't be the black-magic weirdo in the story. My vision of him is this cool suave guy in a flashy black car.

I'm not sure if Ayame is included in the anime and whether you are familiar with her. She has long hair(curly but she straightened it) and wears glasses.

Yes, I've watched the memoirs of a geisha but I'm trying not to copy anything from there. The others I use my imagination and having watched many Hong Kong period dramas I have abundant 'knowledge'. And also the video game 'Tenchu' for ninja inspirations. It's a great game, 

I suppose I'll be writing 10 more chpts or so. I want to cover the war time and after the war (for the happy ending).

I realized that I've been making lots of mistakes too, URGGGH!

And if my drawing are good enough, I'll make a rough sketch of all the characters so you readers can visualized better.


	5. Procrastination is condemned

**Chapter 5:**** Procrastination is condemned.**

The chilly breath of a strong breath whipped the end of Haruhi's yukata up. Broad leaves, dry and crackly, entering their last stage- melancholic death awaiting, turn an obscure shade of reddish brown. They rustle nastily in response to the flowing autumn air. The broken twigs went crick crack, crick crack underneath woven slippers; just like Haruhi's voice- an unfortunately husky tone, not of the seductive kind but similar to that of a lung cancer stricken old man. Throaty and unclear.

The annual Kamogawa Odori was coming and Mariko had arranged for her to sing "Snowy White Crane" with a three string ensemble. She definitely could not perform it with a damaged voice. Troubles, troubles and more troubles were creeping out like abhorring vines of poison ivy.

As Renge and Haruhi climbed higher into the woods, the path became steeper, the ground softer, more yielding under the step. Finally, they reached a ridge protruding out, pin pointing the sharp bent of a meander. The crystal clear water sparkled a metallic glitter like the eye of a tiger as dusk was settling in. The sky howled a salient beryl.

They laid on their backs watching the world from a vertical angle. Light fluffy clouds the shade of ochre purple sauntered across the otherwise unbroken sky. Haruhi saw a rabbit, while Renge half-heartedly pointed out a hibiscus which actually looked more like the abdomen of a praying mantis. Her half-lidded eyes were shutting more rapidly desperate for a bit of shut-eye.

Haruhi looked at Renge, an arm's length away. "Do you like being a geisha?"

"Of course! I like how attractive I am after I've painted my face and worn my costume. And how people stare at you in awe, like you're a god. Men pay exceptional attention to you and you get treated like royalty." Exclaimed Renge with ample gusto, fingering a stray stalk of mimosa. The ebbs of tiny leaves closed on her finger upon contact.

"But you don't get much freedom. Everything's being controlled."

"Ahaha. Your destiny lies with someone, and not in your hand. Just try to accept things slowly, and try to make the best out of it."

By now, the rabbit fluff ball evolved into a pair of sinister fangs. The more Haruhi stared at it, the larger it seemed, almost levitating now like a flashing meteor. She felt suppressed and somewhat suffocated. "Have you even gave it some thought? Mother controls your finance, onee-san decides the person you are to love and the clients toys with your feelings, generous with presents brought with yens from bulging pockets and becoming your danna only when they want to sleep with you. You, as an entertainer dance, sing and make merry. Is there more to life?"

"As in?" Renge brushed a tendril of brown hair away. Haruhi's question was starting to make sense, but she didn't want to admit she was quite fearful of the future.

Next to her, Haruhi closed her eyes. Behind her eyelids she saw her childhood. A month after Mother (in heaven) died, she was separated from her neighbor whose house she lived in as a helper. Her battered seven years-old heart, was too young to understand the dark truth of betrayal and grasp the meaning of death. Wrapped in a torn black tunic and huddled at the back of a bandwagon, all day long Chiro listened to pebbles clattering against the wheels and the howling of wind, which deafened her thoughts. Her heart was dry; she had no tears left.

The horizon kept receding further, the journey continued past straggly moaning wheat stalks and oxen with lowered heads plowing the rice paddies. _Chiro! Chiro! We've reached Tokyo_, Mr Kannashi yelled. _The train will bring us to Kyoto._ There was no reply from the back of the carriage. Horses neighed in fear of the giant steam engines which puffed dirty smut and honked every minute. Chiro put her palms for her ears, trying to be oblivious to the surroundings. _Mother, where are you? Come back, Chiro needs you. Chiro's frightened. Chiro needs a cuddle._ Her heart was constricted in such a foreign place. Nobody heard her cries, not the gentleman with the battered suitcase making notes in a handsome leather bound book, not those ladies with lined mackintosh over frilly lace dresses of pansy colors and pancake hats nor did the old man with papery skin dressed in a blue kimono, selling roasted chestnuts and salmon onigri at a makeshift stall once looked at her. The platform was flooded with waves of people and messy splats of black oil, igniting a pungent smell. Chiro was pushed to the window seat by Mr Kannashi who took 'Tokyo Daily' out and scanned the headlines for eye catching news, finally settling on an article which was titled "May 1926, Mount Tokachidake erupted and left 144 people dead."

As the train chuffed away and left the station, teary-eyed people waved embroidered handkerchiefs in the air, throttling out farewells between strangled sobs. "Bon voyage!" "See you in summer!" And a smudged cheeked Chiro wondered if she would see her mother again. _In summer? Or maybe winter?_

Back in the woods, Haruhi reached for Renge's hand and pressed Renge's palm on her cheek. On the first night Haruhi arrived in the okiya, she had been brokenhearted and gravely homesick. Renge came to her during bedtime and sang lullabies, with her hands on each side of Haruhi's face, to sooth her thumping sorrows. This little act made her feel better in a lot of ways.

Suddenly Haruhi felt a rush of gratefulness and love for her dearest friend. "Thank you Renge."

"What for? Why did you change the subject anyway?" Renge threw a glance at Haruhi, who was now smiling at the sky.

"For being with me when I needed someone the most. Being a geisha is not easy, but with you as my confidante, I can face the future with no regrets." She pointed to the sky, the sleeve fell back exposing milky skin. "Look, the two peacocks are us."

"They look more like bears to me. Peacocks don't have sturdy large thighs." Renge's fork-like tongue moistened her lips. She had no idea why Haruhi was acting all sentimental all of a sudden.

"I hope we will be together forever, no matter what comes between us."

"Haruhi, you are so mushy! But yes, we'll be closer than sworn sisters." She laughed. "I know a lot about you." Her tone was now grave.

"Of course, we lived under the same roof for many years. Surely you know lots of my secrets, and that I hug a stuffed silk rabbit to sleep." The speed of the wind quickened and lalang seeds flew hectic, while ants on raked sand skittered amok. Haruhi sneezed just as a lalang seed disturbed her nose and Renge's sudden coldness was alarming; she hoped Renge was joking like they usually would.

"I know about him."

"I don't like him. We don't share mutual feelings." She sprang up almost immediately. In a way, Haruhi was kind of annoyed that Renge, like her oneesan and mother was constantly teasing her to see the ends of her ears redden. "And I've already told you so."

Initially it hit on her. Two faces flashed across her mind- Tamaki's and Kyoya's. Recently, she had been mulling and spinning webs of daydreams on her true feelings. Mrs Nita once said that feelings were to be shown, not hidden. However, parts of her kept trying to suppress those feelings. It was also based on her intuition. Most of the time intuition led her in the right direction. By now, Haruhi was pretty certain she was experienced in concealing her heart's desire well.

"I'm not talking about that French man."

Haruhi felt her fears building up steadily and fingered the trinket on her sash- it was all she could do to compose herself. It was an exquisite piece of white jade with a peony engravement which looked seemingly familiar. Thinking hard, she racked her brains but no one came in mind except for General Totini with his grisly beast smile. Maybe he had given it to her at the sakura viewing party months back.

"Haruhi, you should know who I'm talking about."

"No, I don't fancy Master Otori either. You must be mistaken." She murmured, the caved paths in her heart twisting and contorting as she spoke. An uncomfortable spasm bubbled up and she straightened her back.

Renge got up as well and glared daggers, so potent Haruhi swore she felt sharp pricks on her back.

"Eh? You like him too?"

"No." there was a great amount of things Haruhi would like to clarify but the lodge in her throat prevented her from doing so.

"Yes you do."

"No, Renge I don't." Haruhi had no idea why she was so afraid of a confrontation like this. Like problems, running away was not an option. Was it a shame to love someone?

"Look at me and tell me that." Renge grabbed her arms in a tight gridlock. The strength, almost like a warrior was unbelievable for such a petite lady like Renge.

_No, I couldn't._ Haruhi thought.

Without waiting for Haruhi to say respond, Renge flew into a rage. "You love him don't you? At parties I see you looking at him as if you were his dog. Damn it, he won't fall for someone _like you_. You are merely a village peasant. And my onee-san said that he is not interested in geisha; he reckons they are unlearned and sees geishas like you as not more than whores, despite the refined actions."

It was a case of pot calling the kettle black, but Haruhi did not make a squeak. Something was stopping her from…

A hard slap made Renge gasped and her words hung in mid-air, the sound reverberated from the hollow of trees. Instantly, Haruhi was regretful but the action could not be taken back. The newly mustered energy started to seep away as she realized what she had done- hurt the 'heaven sent' friend she was so glad about a moment ago.

"S-S-Sorry. I didn't mean to. I just wanted you to stop talking."

The hint of a thunderstorm arrived ; the charcoal clouds replaced roughly huffed away whites. Squally wind started to rage like Renge. Haruhi felt as if a curl of electricity flashed through her entire body. Dread and shock engulfed her. In the darkness the hills of undulating lawns appeared shadowy, unreal.

"Whatever. About what I mentioned earlier, I know all your secrets." Renge hissed, between sputtering mouthfuls of animosity. "I know who you meet every other night by the river. I know who the owner of the black scarf is. I will tell Mother, and Mariko, and _Kyoya_."

"No. please don't. Takashi's just a friend." Betrayal swiped her lips as soon as the word 'friend' came out.

_Has__ Renge been rummaging through my belongings?_

Renge disappeared through the cluster of greens, leaving Haruhi staring blankly at a flat-top stone in the second stage of weathering. Zest awoken her with shaking breathe and guilt slapped sense into her. Then Haruhi remembered. The trinket was from Takashi; the Takashi who pledged never to love another woman but her, the Takashi who spared no qualms about sacrificing his life for her, for darting daggers.

The rain clouds resembling sliver sand of an open sea neared and wood folks tittered last warnings but Haruhi couldn't bulged. Confusion, procrastination and blameworthiness piled up. Higher and higher. The tower would mount to the height of a cone-shaped Mount Fuji and then, little could be done.

"What should I do?" were her last words before she sought shelter, even though the rain could be a good remedy to wash away those dreaded feelings.

Heaven and earth, the sun and moon, day and night, male and female; duality is almighty. The powerful attraction, where repellence has never seen the light of the day, between yin and yang and the same as how a man feels towards a woman he loves. With a chopstick in his right hand, Kyoya shifted his numbing position on the silk tatami mat before switching the pair of ivory chopsticks to his left hand. Beside him, Mariko held up a ceramic bowl of confetti boiled sweet in plum and jade colour; to signifying the coming autumn while he took one. The jade coloured candy. This is the etiquette commonly practised in drinking tea. A metre from him, Haruhi wiped the lip of the bowl with her right hand and forefinger. He nodded at the depth of her knowledge in tea-drinking.

"Mariko, you have taught her well."

"Oh yes, Haruhi's a fast learner." In her seiza position, she could not twitch much and sat erect with much dignity.

The teahouse stood nobly in between various shop houses and shrines that lined the Philosopher's Walk in Ginkaku. Some aged cherry trees had wizened branches so long that they dipped into the water that gleamed like the eye of an angler fish, making ripple patterns together with the ping-pong bubbles breathed by passing schools of carps. In autumn, the trees blushed pumpkin orange as if flirting with googly-eyed stone features, a pretty match with the mahogany oak wood.

The zen-like atmosphere was being soaked up by a few wandering visitors and small parties making pleasantries on bowed knees.

"Haruhi drink all of this." Tamaki pushed a rice wine filled teacup into her hands. His curled lips pouted like a three year old when she took the tinest sip, but actually she merely wet her lips.

"Tamaki, Haruhi and I have another engagement to attend to in a while's time. Haruhi can't hold her alcohol well." Intervened Mariko.

He chuckled and his itchy fingers tore at the kaishi paper. "After that would you bring Haru over and tuck me in bed?"

"Shall I sing for you Master Suou?" Haruhi smiled in reply at Tamaki, who was drowning bottles of sake as fast and woozy as static. Her gesture was an external manner of concern. Inside, she was quite worried for him. In the flickering light Haruhi saw the fautigue that clouded her eyes, distress still etched along the rim. However, she knew better than to ask. A decent woman must not know men's business.

"Hmm…" His heart beat faster at the sight of her smile that felt love-song pure.

"Or shall I dance for you?"

"Tell me a story, Haruhi." Tamaki leaned closer to her, till the approximate distance between both of them was less than half of an arm's length. His rising breath danced on the nape of her neck, making her feel uncomfortable.

Haruhi paused, she contemplated several stories before settling on one. "Once upon a time, there was an old man and an old woman. Though they were poor, they lived happily. One day, when the old man was working on the mountain, he sat on a stump to rest. He took out a rice ball that was wrapped in a bamboo leaf. But the rice ball fell out of his hands and on to the ground. As a matter of fact, it rolled down the mountain and fell into a hole. "

The door slid open smoothly and in entered a waitress who added dishes of petite Ohagi- pounded sticky rice balls covered in soy flour and Mizu yokan- red bean paste gelatin. Haruhi's eyes caught the presence of a man who passed the room. It was no other than the blond man- Mr Nekozawa, from the moon viewing party. His face was a picture of mixed sinister tranquility as he briskly passed.

"M-Mister Otori, the whiskey you ordered." The waitress gave a meek bow before exiting. Her eyes shifted furtively, as if she was shy by the presence of beautiful people.

Haruhi continued, although sensing that Tamaki was close to drunk. "The old man looked down into the hole. Then he heard someone singing: "Omusubi-korolin-sutton-ton." The old man was greatly amused, so he dropped another rice ball into the hole. He dropped another and another until he was completely out of rice balls. He laid his ears down near the hole: "Omusubi-korolin-sutton-ton." He tried to listen closer, but fell down the hole! To his surprise, in the hole were many mice holding a festival. His rice balls had been changed into rice cakes by the mice. The mice cordially welcomed the old man. He sang and danced with them and had a pleasant time. In thanks for the rice balls, the mice gave him a lucky mallet. The old man returned home and told his wife of the happenings. He showed her the lucky mallet. When he shook it, money came out. The old man and woman lived happily forever. "

"Ah! What a lovely ending. Will we be like that old couple? Yes we will" asserted flushed cheek Tamaki. He raise the hour glass bottle for another swig only to find it was empty, so he reached over and snatched the immaculate bottle of Yamazaki from Kyoya's corner.

In return to this, Kyoya narrowed his eyes "I suggest you don't drink too much." And pushed his glasses up. His every move was precise and attentive, Haruhi noted, like an official carrying out a laborious task.

"Kyoya, let me drink. You are not my mother." He slurred slightly.

Kyoya released his grip and gave an audible sigh. Since China declared war on Japan on August 14th, Tamaki started his heavy drinking routine, opening bottles of French Cider as often as the bombs in China was dropped from military planes. From the despairing behaviour of his long-time friend, he reckoned that the business in China has been terminated and the future debts would cost more than two arms and three legs. Still, this was no valid reason for drinking incessantly and overly flirting with entertainers and actresses. It was possible for the Suou Empire to be reinstated.

He watched his friend's face turn from vermillion to a sangria shade with the calmness of Zeus. Kyoya's arms remained crossed even as Tamaki shrugged off his blazer in a beastlike manner and pulled his tie out. Finally, when things got out of control- Mariko, trying to grab a Tamaki trying to violate a wheezing Haruhi underneath him, only did Kyoya got up and hesitantly punched him squarely on his jaw. _Gomen_, he breathed.

Haruhi thought she would get suffocated by Tamaki, convulsing while being pined under his weight. To protect and her humiliation, she desperately tugged at her kimono and smoothed out the Heian pond garden painting. The obvious creases made it appear more like withered spring water in a crumbling stone tub.

In an extravagant fashion, Mariko hurried over. "Haruhi are you alright?"

"Yes oneesan, but Master Suou doesn't seem so." Tamaki was slumped at the foot of the table, passed out from the over dosage of alcohol and the impact of a fist.

"I knew it. That waitress tampered with the whiskey. No wonder the cork was loose." Muttered Kyoya, between curses. He took a deep whiff of the bronzed liquid and licked the tip of his finger tip. "Men's medicine."

"Uh Master Otori, I…" Haruhi spoke out unconfidently. _Should I clarify my sightings? It may ratify the situation…_ He paid no attention to her, and called one of his patiently waiting assistants over. In commanding tones, he ordered him to bring Tamaki to the hospital immediately and instructed the other to interrogate their previous waitress.

Finally Kyoya turned around. "Yes Haruhi?" His voice was kind, yet seemed to drip with ennui.

Her mind was grinding like the mechanics of a clockwork device. It hissed sparks when overworked and clanked nosily- almost deafening the placid atmosphere. It was brimming with 'should i?' questions and her insides battled uneasily. If she merely mentioned Nekozawa he may suspect something. Kyoya had previously remarked that he loathed people lying to him. The truth was important. No one likes to be living a lie.

Furthermore, Mister Nekozawa may not be involved indecently with Ayame. Malignance may result in devastation. "Nothing Master Otori. Can I help with anything?"

"No, it's fine. Mariko, you better hurry to your next venue."

Mariko hustled her out after their bows. Haruhi looked back one more time and saw that the weariness from Tamaki's eyes were now embedded in his.

His throat suddenly felt so raw and dry, it hurt to swallow. New-found affection was lingering in him. The maiko's leave suddenly left a sharp emptiness in him. Was it -- ?

_No, not that kind of love._ Kyoya decided. Nevertheless he had more imperative things to take care of.

The battle had just started. And there was no such thing as it being lost and won. Shakespeare was overrated. Losing was not an option. Definitely not.

**************************************

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Amidst the death of the night, Takashi walked along paths flanked with willow trees. His muscles were aching; the night assassination case had been difficulty demanding. The spear welding guards were situated at each corner making his tasks more challenging them usual. The target had been in midst of practicing calligraphy on a goat skin sheet. The target's eagle eyes had spotted the intruder, which left Takashi with no choice by to execute a jo-strike on his scalp. As usual, no or little evidence was left behind as the ninja darted into shadows and disappeared with the stomp of a tabi boot.

Above him, hanging leaves rustle in the dusk breeze, catkins showered his head and shoulders. He stretched out a palm and caught a handful of green flakes, soft against his flesh. The wind grew stronger, bringing a pungent smell from the South direction. Curious, Takashi went over. A decomposing deer laid among the patchwork of rotting roots from a maple tree. Takashi sneezed, and released the catkins in his closed palms. They fall to the ground, whirling at different angles.

An aged willow tree stood after the bend of the path. The bushy tail of a chipmunk brushed against his gloved arm when he stuck a hand down the hollow of a whooping willow to retrieve the note his damiyo hid.

His blood froze in branching veins when he saw the names "Katoshin Otori, Kyoya Otori."

_Was the second name not the man Haruhi said she was indebted to?_

**Yamazaki- 18 year old jap whiskey**

**Tabi boot- ninja boots**

**Author's note**_: Somebody's going be axed off this story, but he may not be who you think. _

_The war has started, the battle just begun._

_Katoshin is Kyoya's eldest brother._

_I fancy a bit of scandal every now and then, so I included 'Naughty' Neko._

_Sorry I took such a long time to write! I will try to get in as many chapter as possible this week since I'm having a holiday; school is starting the following Monday ____ . I had to do lots of research for this story._

_By the way, my next chapt will be in the Mature section, due to some unexpected situations.._

_Thank you for those valued reviews, keep them coming!!! :- ) Or the twins will die in the bombing!!!! (kidding…)_

_But seriously, reviews and encouragements are the elixir of every writer (if you have published a story before, you would understand)._


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